


Free Fall

by mokuyoubi



Category: Sky High (2005)
Genre: College, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 12:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13054197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mokuyoubi/pseuds/mokuyoubi
Summary: Warren shows up Friday night and says, “Come on loser, we're going out.” Will doesn't miss the way he ends up walking out of their co-ed hall with about a half dozen new contacts in his phone, and the girls looking at Will in a new light. There's no use being jealous when Warren is just so effortlessly cool. Will wishes that's something Warren could teach him, but he's pretty sure it's hopeless.Will's parents might expect him to get his realtor's license and join them at work in the office and fighting villains, but Will's learned he has to make his own way, even if he's not sure that that is. He's going to college to find out what he wants to do with his life, but he comes to a few other realisations along the way...





	Free Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SkyRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyRose/gifts).



> So, I've always kind of wondered how these kids are supposed to go get jobs in the real world after they've spent their high school years working on their superpowers instead of studying traditional subjects, so this is just one take on how things might work in this 'verse.

Will's parents are bemused, to say the least, when he tells them he wants to go to college. Just like with his powers, they'd just always assumed he'd be following in their footsteps. His father had even mocked up some business cards for Stronghold and Son Realty, and Will hates to disappoint them, but he needs to find his own way. If he's learned nothing else from his tenure at Sky High, he's learned the importance of being true to himself.

Many of their classmates are taking positions straight out of High School as protectors for smaller cities across the country, eager for heroes of their own. They'll eventually receive further training for their "day jobs" where they'll be appropriately compensated for their work. Some others come from families like Will's, where their future as both heroes and secret identities are already laid out for them. All their friends looked at Will and Layla like they're crazy for bucking tradition. What could they possible learn from a normal college, anyway?

Warren had paved the way for them, surprising everyone. Even after they'd become friends, Will knew others remained suspicious of him, just waiting for the day he'd stab them in the back and pick up his father's mantle. When he'd graduated a year ahead of them, he'd announced he'd been accepted to Columbia to study Foreign Policy and Political Science. Afterwards he wants to work on encouraging cooperation between the different superhero organisations across the world.

Will hadn't even considered it a possibility, but after Warren told him, it was all he could think about. Getting lost in a whole city of strangers who had never heard the name Stronghold and had no idea his parents were The Commander and Jetstream. Even as loving as his parents were, there was no escaping the shadow their names had cast over his whole life.

Like Warren, Layla already has her whole future planned out. She'd never bought into the hero/sidekick dichotomy. She would study horticulture and biochemistry in Washington first. One day she'd open her own greenhouse, and use her powers to grow new hybrids, to create superfoods that could grow in areas with poor soil and little water, to feed the starving, and medicinal plants to cure sickness. She'd save the world in her own way.

Will has no idea what he wants to do with his life, and that should be terrifying. Instead, it's incredibly freeing. He applied to over a dozen colleges, and he'd meant to tell his parents, honestly...but then the first acceptance letters start to pour in, and Will comes home to find his parents reading a pile of them at the island counter in utter confusion.

After a long, heated conversation with a lot of bellowing from his father and Will's crossed arms and defiant expression, Mom had suggested they all take a little time to themselves. Will locks the door to his room then goes out the window to sit on the roof.

Will scrolls through his phone and considers calling Layla. She knows what his father can be like, and she'd be sympathetic, but she also wouldn't really understand. Her mother is always supportive of what Layla wants to do with her life. When Layla got accepted to college, her mom had thrown a big party to celebrate and would brag to everyone she knew about her brilliant college-bound daughter.

Zach and Ethan and Magenta are still confused about Will's choice to go to college themselves. They're all three planning on attending the Academy, where they'll go through the steps of getting paired up with a Hero and learn to work together as a team, and he thinks Zach actually might feel a little betrayed that Will's not going to be his Superhero.

His text thread with Warren is at the top of his messages and Will thumbs it open. Warren isn't the most talkative guy, but he's a big texter. Will gets all sorts of random messages from him—photos from around the city or of the stupid things his cat gets up to, or rambling commentary on whatever show he was watching, or the weird conversations he overhears on the subway. Will can't help but smile despite his mood at the most recent, a picture of Tolstoy drinking coffee out of Warren's mug.

Will taps out _dad's freaking out_ and sends it without even really thinking about it.

Right about now Warren should on his way to his part-time job. He might not even see the message until he gets off later tonight. But a minute later his phone buzzes. _Let me guess--you never told them and they found out somehow._

It's really sort of impressive how Warren can convey a tone of voice through a text message. Will can just imagine the tilt of his head and the unimpressed arch of one brow. _I was going to tell them!_

Even outside, Will can hear his dad downstairs, slamming around the kitchen, probably angrily making a sandwich. He'll cool down by tomorrow, and in a few days mom will talk him around to it, but Will knows it might be a long time before his dad really accepts his choice. If he ever does.

_I just dont want to disappoint them_

It takes longer for Warren to respond. Will knows the cell service goes out if he's riding the subway, or maybe he has a table to wait on. Then the only response is a mysterious _pork or beef?_

 _???_ Will sends, then, _beef_ because he might not know what the question is about, but the answer is always beef. Layla's mom once told him about this pig that sang lullabies to her piglets and now he can never look at pork the same way.

A half hour later Warren finally answers with _come over_.

For most people, having their best friend move halfway across the country for college must really suck. The whole supersonic flight thing makes life a lot easier, not just for saving the world and bringing home carryout sushi straight from Japan. Will considers telling his mom, but he's still feeling hurt and rebellious, and anyway, he's got is cell if they need to reach him.

Warren's left open the window on his balcony, and when Will draws close, he can smell the delicious scent of cooking food wafting out. “I thought you had work today,” Will calls out over the music that's playing when he lands.

“Traded shifts,” Warren calls back.

The apartment is kind of insane. One of Baron Battle's that didn't get seized when he was convicted because he'd left it for Warren. Some loophole his lawyer found, and something Will's father had fought them over, insisting that Warren was just going to use all his father's assets to pick up his mantle. Will wonders what Baron thinks about Warren living there to go to college. He isn't even taking advantage of the secret laboratory Baron left behind, full of potions, weapons, and gadgets.

Will doesn't get why Warren even bothers with part time jobs, when he has all this stuff. Warren just says he likes working, and Will's mom says it's character building. But either way, Will thinks it should be proof enough for his father, when he starts to look suspicious, that Warren has no intention of following in Baron's footsteps.

Following the scent of garlic and sizzling meat, Will makes his way through the living room to the kitchen. Tolstoy is watching the cooking meat avidly, tail swishing, and her purring kicks up a notch when Will strokes her back in greeting. Warren is standing at the stovetop in a tank top and bare feet, singing along with Vince Neil. He's got his glasses on and his hair up in a messy bun, and Will just stands there and watches for a minute. Not many people get to see Warren like this, and there are times Will has a hard time believing he's one of them.

“Would you quit staring like a freak and get down some bowls?” Warren says without turning around. There's no real bite to his words. He's made Will's favourite dish: beef with vegetables in a salty-sweet sauce. It's not so much a secret that Warren is an amazing cook, but the trick is actually getting him to make something for you.

They forego the honestly terrifying dining table (seriously, it looks like something used as an altar for virgin sacrifices) to eat on the sofa with the tv playing in the background. The volume's turned down low so Will can bitch.

“It's like everyone else has everything figured out, and no one can understand why I don't—why I'd want to do anything other than join my mom and dad.” Will pushes around a piece of mushroom. If Layla were here she'd steal it off his plate, but thinking of her just brings him down even more. “Even Layla doesn't get why I didn't just tell them, and keeps talking about my potential and picking a major, but how am I supposed to know what I want to do yet, when the last four years I've had all this superhero stuff shoved down my throat.”

Warren chews noisily on a water chestnut in response and Will sighs. “I knew you'd get it, though. I mean, I can't imagine your dad's too thrilled with your life choices.”

Warren almost chokes on his water. “The difference is, the Commander isn't going to force you into anything,” he says, with a little wry twist to his lips to show he's not upset. “Whereas if my dad somehow managed to get out of maximum security, he wouldn't take no for an answer.”

Will knows there's no way that's happening. Even if his dad does escape, he'll do whatever it takes to keep Warren from becoming a villain, right down to facing Baron Battle himself. He keeps those thoughts to himself, though, lest Warren accuse him of being a sap.

A glum sort of silence follows. Tolstoy takes advantage of his lack of attention to snag a piece of beef off his plate from her position on the back of the couch. Will figures it's as good a time as any to share his news. “Layla broke up with me.”

Warren nods his head. “I know.”

“Said it was best thing, with us going off to college.”

“I know.”

“Magenta says it's because I lack direction.”

Warren's lips threaten a real smile. “I know.”

Will throws his hands up in the air. “Do they all talk about me behind my back?”

“You all talk. A _lot_ ,” Warren mutters. Will rolls his eyes and settles back with his arms crossed over his chest, and Warren sighs. “Look, it's not the end of the world. You'll meet someone. Maybe not as many someones as me, but hey, we don't all have such raw animal magnetism.”

If Will shoves him a little _too_ hard, it's hardly anything new in their relationship. But he feels better, and they both know it.

 

*

There are all kinds of rules for going out in the world with powers, especially without accepting a formal position. Everyday heroism is okay, like stopping a robbery or shooting or something, but for the big baddies, you can't step on another, official hero's turf. When Will decides on NYU, he gets a map of the city carved up into districts with the names of the heroes and sidekicks that operate there. They might call on him for assistance, but otherwise he has to stay out of their way.

The thing is, Will really _does_ want to to be a superhero someday, but he's ready to just be a normal guy for the next four years. His parents help him move into his dorm, and between the three of them and their powers, it's done in no time. His father's smile might be a little strained, but his hug is still sincere when they part after dinner that night. His mother wraps him up in her arms and smells like home, and tells him not to be a stranger. Will feels weirdly sad even as he reminds her that they _both_ have supersonic flight.

That first week passes in a blur of book shopping and syllabuses and trying to remember a million new names. He's so exhausted that he can't even be bothered by the one roommate who snores like a bear or the other who stays up until three am typing on his laptop.

Warren shows up Friday night and says, “Come on loser, we're going out.” Will doesn't miss the way he ends up walking out of their co-ed hall with about a half dozen new contacts in his phone, and the girls looking at Will in a new light. There's no use being jealous when Warren is just so effortlessly cool. Will wishes that's something Warren could teach him, but he's pretty sure it's hopeless.

They end up at a club in Brooklyn where Warren is singing and playing rhythm guitar with a few guys who refuse to call themselves a band, even though they've already got a group of fans following them around the city. Will probably drinks more than he should, but the bartender keeps giving them to him for cheap and doesn't card him, since he's a friend of Warren's, so he supposes he should be grateful for the cool factor by proxy.

Afterwards they end up walking for blocks until Warren drags him into a pizza shop that looks like a hole in the wall, but turns out to have the best slice Will's ever had in his _life_. Will is feeling a little morose though, and he can't quite put his finger on it. It's not that he doesn't want Warren to be good at...basically everything, or stupidly good-looking, it's just, Will's tired of being the only person he knows who doesn't have life figured out already.

Warren's talking about some band and suddenly kicks Will under the table. He realises Warren asked a question and then he feels like shit, because on top of everything else, Warren is a great listener, and Will just plain sucks at it. But instead of calling him out on it, Warren just says, “Will you stop fucking moping. You could make kittens sad with that face, Stronghold.”

“Sorry,” Will mumbles around his pizza, and then grasps for a subject change or distraction. “You sounded really awesome tonight. I mean, I know you wanna do the whole International Superhero thing, but you could totally do that for a living. Be in a band. Be famous for being Warren Peace, not whatever Superhero name they'd give you.”

“Let's be real, no name they could give me would be a better Superhero name than the one I've already got.” He takes a drink of his soda and wipes his greasy fingertips on a napkin, then leans forward with his elbows on the table to pin Will with this _look_. It's sort of unnervingly like the look his mom gives him sometimes, when she's seeing right through his lies. “If you were anyone else, I'd think you were fishing for compliments or something.”

“What?” Will sputters, and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth, and he wishes he hadn't had that last Long Island. Or maybe that he'd had a few more. “I'm not—it isn't--”

Warren holds up a hand. “I'm only going to say this once, so pay attention. You saved the entire school as a freshman. You showed everyone at that place that you didn't care about their bullshit social hierarchy of hero and sidekick, and now you've gotten into college when you've spent the majority of the last four years studying shit that has nothing to do with the real world. Point is, if you want to do something different with your life, just _do it_.” He shrugs and leans back in his seat. “No one holding you back but you.”

“You forgot something,” Will says, smiling. At Warren's arched brow, he says, “I managed to get you as my best friend.” He's expecting Warren to make some smartass comment about not agreeing to that role or something.

Instead, Warren snorts in amusement, and gives this half-smile that actually reaches his eyes. “Yeah, maybe your Superhero name can be Miracle Worker.”

Will's cheeks feel suddenly, inexplicably hot. Warren gets to his feet and hauls Will to his with an arm through his elbow. “Come on, better get your ass back home safe before the Commander swoops in and puts me away on a triple life sentence for getting you drunk.”

Will rubs his face blearily into Warren's leather jacket, which smells like fire, and says, “Don't worry, I'll protect you.”

Warren chuckles softly, and he doesn't pull away. Will's stomach twists like he's going to be sick, but thankfully manages to resist the urge. “Now there's a fight I'd be interested in seeing,” Warren says.

*

By the end of the fifth week of classes, Will is basically living out of Warren's place. His mom keeps going on about how going to college is about learning how to live with different people, and his father keeps saying he can come home, neither of which is helpful when he's exhausted from lack of sleep. He's used to his own space, and peace and quiet, and he can't study with all the chaos of three roommates, let alone rest.

Besides, he spends most of the time when he's not studying with Warren anyway, whether they're playing games at his place, or Warren's showing him around to all the cool hidden spots he's discovered in the city. A lot of the time Will ends up at his apartment just to work on his papers or study for an exam and ends up sleeping over because, well, it's not like Warren doesn't have the space.

Best of all, Warren doesn't mind that he's there all the time. He makes Will food when he's been studying so long he's forgotten to eat, and he brings home ridiculous coffee drinks from his job knowing Will's sweet tooth. He even gets a key cut for Will, so he can enter the more traditional way. “It's not like I need all the space to myself,” he says.

School gets better, too. He was a mess of nerves at first, but once he gets into the swing of it, he realises he _can_ do this. Math has always been a strong point of his, and Layla has tutored him in science, Warren helps him with his English and Spanish homework when he needs it.

He meets a couple of girls in history class and they start up a study group. It's not the same as his friends back at Sky High, but that's an unfair comparison anyway. They meet at the library and cafeteria a few times before Warren says, “You can bring them back here, you know? It's your place too.”

The sick feeling is back in Will's stomach, except he hasn't had anything to drink this time. It keeps happening these days. He _knows_ this feeling, remembers if from those early days with Gwen. The roller coaster drop in his gut, the spike of adrenaline making him dizzy. Not that he never felt it around Layla, but they were so comfortable with one another from the start. He'd always loved her, dating was just a new aspect of it.

Though now, looking back on specific moments, he's starting to wonder if he's just been missing what's right in front of him. Like how he'd felt after fighting with Warren the first time, and how he'd passed it off as the excitement of getting his powers. Or the rush of winning save the citizen together how many times throughout high school, and Warren giving him that beaming smile that no one else seemed to get. Or the way that Warren was fine hanging out with the others when they went out or over to Will's house, but Warren only ever invited Will over to his place, and the private, selfish happiness he'd felt.

Of course, coming to the realisation doesn't _help_. If anything, it makes it worse. Warren is his best friend, after all, so Will knows that he's one hundred percent straight. He's dated a handful of girls and though he doesn't talk a lot about the details, Will knows he's had sex with most of them. He's never given even the slightest hint of any interest in a guy. The idea of Warren finding out and not wanting to be his friend anymore...Will can't bear it.

Will flies out to see Layla that weekend. She's already made about a million friends and looks perfectly at home in her dorm room with five other girls. It's only been a little over a month since he's seen her, but she looks older already, more mature, with her hair back in a braid and dressed for yoga, though she cancels when he shows up without warning, and takes him out for coffee instead.

“I think I'm in love with Warren,” Will tells her miserably, and Layla gives him a lopsided smile and says, “I know.”

He can't even muster any annoyance at how everyone around him seems to know everything about him before _he_ does. “Does...does he know?”

Layla tilts her head to the side in consideration. “Warren's not exactly an open book,” she says slowly. “But, and I say this with all the love in my heart, you really, really _are_. It's not exactly hard to see.”

Will drops his head into his hands and considers what this means. It puts a lot of things in a whole new light, like how freaked out his dad would get whenever he'd found out Will had spent the night at Warren's. Or that sort of sad smile his mom had when Will visited last week and she'd asked if he'd found a girlfriend, and then the conversation wandered to Warren showing him around the city.

He's waiting for some kind of sexuality crisis to kick in right about now, but it doesn't come. He considers forcing it, because, isn't that what you're supposed to do when you figure out you want to kiss your (male) best friend? But that sort of thing has never really meant much to him anyway, so he can't muster a whole lot of energy over it. Right now all his energy is focused on the larger problem of it being _Warren_ he wants to kiss, out of all the far more attainable guys in the world.

“God, you must hate me,” Will says, the words muffled in his palms.

Layla just pats his back. “No,” she says, and rests her cheek against his shoulder. “I love you, and I always will, but you just made it easier to do what I had to do. We're better as friends, Will.”

When he gets back to New York, he goes straight to his dorm because he can't deal with the thought of having to see Warren right now. And then he realises that all his school stuff is at the apartment, and he sneaks in while Warren's at work. He manages to pull it off for a couple of days, before he remembers he's supposed to go to Warren's show on Wednesday night, and he'd be a complete asshole if he bailed.

They're meeting up with some of Warren's friends beforehand for dinner. Will grabs a seat further down the table, strikes up a conversation with the woman who's a metal worker and the guy who blows glass, and it's interesting enough that he can almost forget it's because he's avoiding his best friend.

On the L train, Warren ends up plopping down in the seat beside him. He's expecting a question or maybe a veiled accusation about dodging him, but Warren doesn't say anything. He just sits close enough for their arms to brush and sends Will this side-long look that is totally inscrutable. “I'm glad you came.”

Will wants to apologise or insist _of course_ he'd come, except he hasn't been around the past few days and Warren has noticed he was being avoided, and god, Will's the biggest ass he knows. “I've just got—you know, school, and—there's uh, this girl.”

Holy shit, _why_ did he say that???

Warren raises his brows in surprise and interest. “You shoulda brought her.”

“Oh, she had plans already.” Will waves a hand dismissively.

There's a long silence between them, with Warren looking at him expectantly, before he finally says, “Well, tell me about her. What's her name, what's she like?”

Will has to resist the urge to actually faceplant on the floor of the train, which would be less painful honestly. He grasps through his memory for something, anything, and the first thing that comes to mind is a girl in his study group. “Her name is Alison.”

Warren stares at him. “And?”

“Um. She's kinda pale, she's got very long red hair.” Will gestures down his back. “She's thin. Small nose.” He thinks her eyes are brown, maybe?

“Wow,” Warren says, his voice and expression blank. That _wow_ could mean just about anything. “Sounds...nice, I guess.”

“Yeah she's cool.” Will founders around for some more details, finding his footing. “She's an Economics major. We met in study group.”

Warren hums. “Good for you, man.” He grins at Will. “You and your thing for redheads.”

Will's eyes flick to the red streaking Warren's hair. “You might be right about that,” he mutters.

*

Will feels bad about using Alison without her knowing it, and about lying to Warren, but he's dug his hole now. At least it gives him an excuse to not come around the apartment as much. It's just a short term fix, he knows that. He can't avoid Warren forever—he's his best friend. Maybe just long enough to get this stupid crush under control.

There's a voice in the back of his head telling him it's not going to be that easy to get over Warren, that this isn't just some crush. Being around him makes Will light-headed and his heart pound, which is stupid, because _nothing_ has changed.

Warren isn't doing anything different from normal, but Will can't help but notice how close he sits now, when they're playing games on the couch. Warren's body pressed against Will's side, radiating heat. Or how the flames reflect in Warren's eyes when he uses his powers. How the tendons in his wrists and hands flex when he plays the guitar, making his tattoos come to life.

Will's never really thought much about it when Warren would lay out on the couch with his hair splayed out all over the place, but now it takes all his willpower not to reach out and run his fingers through it.

It doesn't help that Warren keeps giving him this look, like there's some joke Will's not been clued in on. It shouldn't look so hot, but Warren's been perfecting the whole bad-boy image his whole life, and it does something for Will, apparently.

After a week of this, with Warren pressing him for details on Alison, and saying he should invite her to hang out, Will comes home from classes in search of his cellphone. He was sure he'd taken it that morning, but when he reached his first class, it was nowhere to be found in his backpack or coat. He searches through his bedroom and under the couch cushions and all over the kitchen, and then Warren appears in the doorway holding it up.

Will ignores the butterflies in his stomach at the site of him fresh from the shower after work, with water still dripping from the ends of his hair. He's in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, and Will's seen him shirtless before, right? They were in gym class together, after all. Then why does it feel like the first time seeing him like this? The few inches of height Warren has put on in the past couple years has thinned him out a bit, but that only serves to highlight the hard cut of the muscles in his chest and abs.

“Thanks,” Will says faintly, training his eyes on the floor. He reaches for his phone, but Warren holds it above his head. “Really?” Will asks.

Between his flying abilities and his strength, Warren's going to lose however this plays out, but Will stops short when Warren says, “I invited your study group over.”

Will's breath stutters out of him. “What?” Now the butterflies have morphed into something heavier and more anxious.

“This way you don't have to hang out in the library. We can order carry out and you can be as loud as you want.” He gives Will a piercing look. “You'd think you don't want them coming over here. Ashamed of letting them know your best friend's the son of Baron Battle?”

“What?” Will repeats, tone completely different now. At least he doesn't have to worry about his stupid attraction when he's indignant. “Don't be an asshole, you know I don't care about that.”

“Hmm,” Warren makes a thoughtful noise. His skin is flushed from the slower, and Will licks his lips, unthinking. “Well, I've been having trouble figuring it out, why you wouldn't just bring her over here. Has to be a lot more comfortable than a dorm room. More private, too.”

“It's not that!” Will shouts. “We're not—I didn't—”

“Chill out, Stronghold,” Warren says. He tosses Will his phone. “I didn't really call your friends. I just wanted to see what you'd do.”

“ _Why_?” Will asks, jaw dropped open in disbelief.

“Wanted to see how you'd react,” Warren says with a shrug. “Couldn't figure out why you were lying about having a girlfriend.”

“I'm not,” Will begins and his words go out completely when Warren comes closer, and there's nowhere for Will to back up with the island behind him. He swallows hard. He's not sure if Warren's trying to be intimidating, but that's not exactly the effect it's having on him.

“See, at first I thought you were just busy with school, but then you go and tell me you've got a girlfriend and completely avoid me,” Warren says. “So if you don't want hang out anymore, you don't have to lie about it. Just say so.”

“That's _not_ it,” Will says. He takes a step forward in his vehemence, and suddenly there's no space between them, and it's like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. “I didn't lie on purpose, it just...happened.”

Warren looks unimpressed. “You lied. On _accident_.” When he puts it like that, Will feels especially stupid. He can either tell the truth, or keep up trying to avoid the truth, and maybe lose his best friend in the process whichever way he chooses.

Will has never been a coward before, and now playing like one has only gotten him in trouble. Time to come clean. Will straightens and throws back his shoulders, and looks Warren in the eye. “I didn't want to lose my best friend when you found out.”

“Jesus, Stronghold, if I've put up with your shit this long, what makes you think you'd scare me off?” Warren asks.

Will swallows again, and then again, almost compulsively. “Because. I like you.”

Warren arches a brow and takes a step back in surprise, and Will's thankful that he's not asking for clarification, because right now he doesn't think he could bring himself to do it. “So what, you thought you'd make me jealous?”

“I—what—no!” Will stops short and actually processes what Warren just said. He bites his lip, cautiously hopeful. “Were you jealous?”

Warren snorts. “In your dreams, Stronghold.”

A burst of delighted laughter makes its way free of Will's chest. “You were, oh my god. You were jealous!”

There's a faint growling sound coming from Warren, but he's not denying it, Will notes. In fact, he's moving closer, walking Will back till he's pinned against the island. Warren's hands brace on the counter on either side, caging him in. Sometimes Will forgets he's the strong one, when Warren's towering over him. Will's throat goes dry, neck bent back to look up at him.

“So let me get this straight,” Warren says, voice pitched low in a way that sends a shiver down Will's spine. “You made up a girlfriend so I wouldn't find out you were into me?” Will nods once. Warren has this habit of turning his words around in a way that makes him sound seriously stupid. “I take back what I said the other day,” Warren says. “You're a fucking moron.”

Will opens his mouth to make a sound of protest, but it's cut off when Warren ducks his head to kiss him. His lips soothe the sting of his words, impossibly soft, even with the bruising intensity of his kiss. It's all slick mouths and biting teeth, and Warren's hands in Will's hair. His fingertips burn along Will's scalp and Will moans at the sensation.

Then he's reaching out to touch himself, like he's suddenly realised it's allowed. Wraps his arms around Warren's waist and steps into him so they're pressed together, smooths his hands up Warren's back and holds on tight. He likes to think he has better control of himself, but he can feel their feet leaving the floor and Warren lets go with one hand to brace it on the ceiling above them before they crash into it headfirst.

“I'm flattered,” he mumbles against Will's lips, “but I'm starting to wonder if I'm going to have to tie you down.”

And _oh_ , Will couldn't have anticipated the effect those words would have on him, has never even considered it before, but his hips jerk against Warren's in response. His cock goes from stirring with interest to painfully hard in an instant, when he feels Warren's pressing against his thigh.

Warren chuckles, trailing wet, sucking kisses along Will's jaw, down his throat. “And now I've all the sudden got the feeling I'm going to unearth a whole wealth of kinks from Mister Vanilla Stronghold himself.”

Will could argue it, but why bother when it's true on both counts, and he doesn't mind in the least. He concentrates enough to bring them back to the ground, and surges forward with his strength to pin Warren against the wall, goes up on his toes to shut him up with another kiss. He only pulls back when his lungs feel like they're going to burst. He pants, to Warren's beaming delight, “Let's find out,” and drags him off to the bedroom.

Layla liked having the light turned off when they did stuff, but Will always wanted to be able to see. Warren doesn't put up any protest when Will flips on the light and just stares at Warren hungrily as he pushes his sweats down over his hips to pool around his ankles. He's not wearing anything underneath, and Will thought he'd be more freaked out, the first time seeing another guy naked in front of him like _this_ but his mouth waters at the sight of Warren's cock, heavy and hard, rising up from the thatch of dark wiry hair.

Spurred on by his unashamed boldness, Will tugs his shirt up over his head and flings it aside. His fingers are shaking as he starts to work on the button of his jeans, and Warren steps forward to lay his hands over Will's. Ducks his head to catch his lips in a gentler kiss as their fingers tangle together, slipping the button free and tugging down the zipper.

Warren slips a hand inside, down the elastic band of Will's boxers, to wrap around his cock. Will whines against his mouth. He thrusts into Warren's grip, hands coming up to grip his shoulders, and within a couple strokes he's coming. He pulls back to look between them, cheeks burning in embarrassment, and mutters, “Sorry.”

Warren makes a sound of amusement and pulls his hand free. He brings it to his mouth and licks, and Will's dick jumps with renewed interest at the sight. Before Will can react to it, Warren shoves him back on the bed and leans down to tug off Will's jeans and boxers off. Then he climbs onto the mattress on his hands and knees, and crawls up the length of Will's body.

Will's transfixed by the easy confidence in his eyes and the familiar, playful twist of his smirk, the way his muscles shift as he moves. He rises up on his elbows to meet Warren's kiss, and Warren sinks down until there's nothing but the drag of skin and hair. Will reaches between them, he has to touch, but once his fingers brush against Warren's cock, his brain just shorts out.

“I—I don't know what to do,” he says.

“You have a dick of your own, right?” Warren asks, smiling broadly. “I think you can figure it out.”

Will rolls his eyes and gives over to instinct. It might be a different angle, but he knows what kind of pressure feels good, and he likes how Warren feels in his hand. The weight and length and girth of another cock. He swipes his thumb over the head and Warren gives a grunt of encouragement. Will gives him a couple of experimental strokes but it's too dry.

“There's lube in the--” Warren starts to say, and goes abruptly silent when Will licks his own palm. He doesn't think he's ever seen Warren speechless before, blank-faced, complete with blinking eyes. “Though that is incredibly fucking hot.”

Will grins and wraps spit-slick fingers around Warren, tighter this time, and jerks him off fast. Warren shudders above him, eyes falling closed, his arms trembling where they're braced on either side of Will's. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, and Will reaches up to lick at it, just because he wants to. Warren lets out a shuddering, surprised breath, and then he's coming all over Will's hand and stomach in stinging hot pulses.

Warren collapses beside him, one arm and leg thrown over Will's body. They're both struggling to regain their breath, and Will's cock is already half-hard again. Now that the initial, blinding arousal has passed, the shock is setting in--that he can actually have this, that Warren wants him _back_. 

Will wriggles an arm under Warren’s side to draw him closer, skates his hand up the warm, silken skin of his back. His other hand comes up to cover Warren’s where it rests over his chest, and Warren parts his fingers for them to slot together. “That was…” Will’s at a loss for words.

“Do me a favour,” Warren says, still a little breathless. “Next time save us some trouble and just tell me when you wanna screw around.”

Though his cheeks feel like he’s been hit with one of Warren’s fireballs, Will pushes it aside and rolls on his side to face him. “Warren,” he says seriously. His palm presses against Warren’s spine and down, to cup a handful of his ass. He almost can’t believe he’s bold enough to do it, grave expression giving way to a cocky smile. He nudges forward so Warren can’t miss the hardness of his cock against his hip. “I wanna screw around.”

*

Warren is a cuddler, which is as welcome as it is unexpected. Will can't get enough of the feel of all that smooth, warm skin pressed against his own. It's like basking in the sun, and leaves Will feeling as sleepy and loose-limbed as the summer heat.

Will wakes up in the same position he fell asleep, when usually he moves around a lot, with Warren half on top of him. His hair's gone curly from drying wet, and it falls messily over Will's chest. Will's gives into the desire to touch, carding through the tangles. His cock is stirring with interest too, but that he ignores for now.

Since high school Will's known that Warren isn't a morning person. He was often late to school, pulling himself out of bed so late he missed the bus and had to get a ride from superfriends of his mother's who could fly. Will had eventually taken to picking him up himself, once he was allowed to fly to school, tapping on Warren's window to wake him and dealing with his cranky mumbling the entire way.

Now Will looks back on those memories in a new light, at how eager he'd been to carry Warren, like it would validate their friendship somehow, for Warren to allow it. Yeah, he's been harbouring this crush a _long_ time.

Apparently, Will should have tried some different tactics for waking him back then, because now when Warren begins to stir from these gentle touches, he gives a full-body stretch and smiles up at Will, chin propped on his chest. “Good morning,” he murmurs, and slides his leg up Will's to twine them together. His thigh rubs against against Will's morning wood, teasing with promise.

Will's hand tightens in Warren's hair, his heart skipping in his chest, his breathing picking up speed. “Morning,” he answers, thinking of drawing Warren up for a kiss. Instead, his breath catches when Warren begins to sink down his chest, planting soft kisses to Will's sternum, and the jumping muscles of his stomach as he goes, and Will realises what he's about to do.

“You don't have to,” he says.

Warren's eyes never leave his, and they spark with amusement at Will's words. “Yeah, but I _want_ to.” He punctuates the words with a nip at Will's hipbone that has his eyes rolling back in his head.

Will’s not going to protest, especially when Warren’s breath ghosts over the head of his cock, a second before his lips close around him. “Fuck,” he hisses, and he’s unable to look away, with Warren still watching him as he sinks lower. His lips stretch around the width of Will’s cock in the most obscene way, and his eyes spark with amusement and lust. 

He tightens his fingers, testing, and gives a little tug. Warren’s eyes dip closed briefly, and he does something with his tongue that makes Will whimper and thrust forward. And Warren _takes_ it, Will can feel his cock sliding down his open throat and Warren swallowing around him, and it’s _heaven_.

“Holy shit, Warren, you--I’m--” 

Warren hums in amusement at Will’s babbling. One hand is braced on Will’s hip, holding him in place while he bobs up and down Will’s cock with unbelievable suction. The other hand reaches between Will’s thighs to massage his balls. It’s so good, milking his pleasure from him. Will tugs at his hair in warning, but Warren just picks up the pace and takes Will deep again as he starts to come.

When he can finally catch his breath and opens his eyes, Warren is crouching over him on his knees, stroking his cock lazily. “Dude,” Will says, “best wake up ever. You’re gonna have to teach me how to do that.”

Warren grins, scooting up until his knees bracket Will’s shoulders.“No time like the present, Stronghold.” He guides his cock to Will’s mouth and taps the head against his lips. “Practice makes perfect.”

*

It shouldn’t be surprising how easily they fall into this, with how easily they’d fallen into friendship. All the odds had been against them then. Everyone had bet they’d be the worst of enemies, and instead they’d become the best of friends. And looking back, Will can acknowledge it was all building to this.

There’s not that much difference in how they are with each other, except now Will is allowed to openly stare and touch. Laying his head in Warren’s lap on the couch, and the way Warren will absently stroke his fingers along Will’s scalp while he reads. The sleepy morning kisses traded over coffee mugs in the kitchen. To take Warren’s hand while they're walking down the street and have Warren lace their fingers together instead of pulling away.

Will’s not used to having so many people shooting him dirty looks, all the girls at the clubs where Warren’s band frequents, and even a few of his friends, when they realise he’s got what they want. Warren keeps calling Will his boyfriend, and that makes Will’s stomach drop in the best way, like he’s missed the final step of the staircase and Warren was there to catch him.

So he should be waiting for the moment when something happens to screw everything up, and it happens when he comes home from study group to find Warren doing his poly-sci homework at the kitchen table. 

Will’s distracted like he always is when Warren has his hair up, by the long, exposed line of his neck. He comes around the back of Warren’s chair and bends to press his lips against the curve of Warren’s shoulder, and Warren says, “Don’t freak out.”

Will freezes. “Why?” he asks slowly.

“I might have mentioned my new boyfriend to my mom,” Warren says, completely nonchalant. Will tries not to be jealous of the easy way Warren has with Stella Peace, like Layla with her mother, where he can tell her anything without having to worry about how she’ll react.

“Okay,” Will says cautiously.

“And she might have guessed it was you.”

It’s not surprising, really. “Okay.”

“She invited you to Thanksgiving dinner.”

Will pulls away to drop in the chair beside him. “Is that all?” he asks with a little laugh.

Warren presses his lips together and nods. “Well, I pointed out that your parents were probably expecting you, aaaaaand...Mom decided she’d call the Commander and Jetstream and suggest we all have one big family Thanksgiving.”

It takes a few moments for Will to really process the words and their ramifications. Maybe Stella hadn’t said anything to his parents about him and Warren, but then that wouldn't explain the hesitant, almost nervous look in Warren’s eyes, which is out of place on him. That, more than fear over his father’s reaction, drives him in this moment. Warren is never anything other than completely confident. 

Seeing him uncertain gives Will a calm he didn’t know he had. He lays his hand over Warren’s and says lightly, “They were going to find out eventually.” Because he’s in this for the long run, is what goes unspoken and understood between them.

With Warren at his side, he navigated high school, and he’s started to figure out his place here at college, and someday, he knows the two of them will be great when they finally step into the spotlight with their powers. A team to rival his parents, even. With all of that, what’s coming out to his parents at Thanksgiving? 

“You should make that stuff you make, with the spinach and the carrots.”

“Parsnips,” Warren corrects. He’s smiling so wide, it’s almost hard to look at.

Will rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Mom will love it because it’s sort of healthy, and Dad will love it because it tastes like it isn’t healthy at all.”

“Somehow I think your dad’s going to be a little harder to win over than that,” Warren says. He squeezes Will’s hand. “You’re being way cooler about this than I expected.” His voice is a bit suspicious.

“Yeah,” Will laughs. “I don’t get it.”

“Everyone used to give Mom shit about falling in love with Dad, but she never let it get to her. Even now if you ask her, she’ll still say she loves him. I never got it, but she always said it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. Something about Dad just made everything else in her life make sense.”

There’s a lot to process there, because Warren doesn’t like to really talk about his dad too much, between their complicated relationship, and the whole thing where Will’s dad is the reason he’s locked away. But all Will can really focus on is the love part. “Are you saying you’re in love with me?”

Warren blinks once, slowly, and says, “Yes,” though it sounds more like duh.

“And that I’m in love you?”

This time Warren does say _duh,_ with an indulgent smile and a flick against Will’s hand. They’re both smiling when they lean in at the same time, closing the distance between them for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I could have kept writing this forever, telling the whole story of their romance and coming out to his parents and finishing college and getting jobs and becoming a superhero duo...if only I'd had the time. I hope, dear recipient, you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Happy yuletide!


End file.
